


Twenty-four

by lotorslance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Lancelot - Freeform, Langst, M/M, Mpreg, WIP, Will change to Explicit soon!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotorslance/pseuds/lotorslance
Summary: Several years have passed since Lotor took over the throne and formed the New Unified Universe and Lance, now the Emperor's husband, is still trying to grow accustomed to the royal lifestyle...or has he become too comfortable?





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this (and parts of future chapters) were written before season 5 aired so there are some slight inconsistencies with canon but otherwise it's pretty much following a similar storyline. Also, the Lancelot fic I wrote called "Anything for You" takes place in the same universe as this one! It's what sort of inspired this fic in the first place...and the lovely people on the Lancelot discord. So thank you! (Not beta'd at all lol)

Crawling into bed at the end of the day felt amazing.  
  
He was dressed only in his baseball tee and boxer briefs, and he loved feeling the silky sheets cascade over his bare legs. He rubbed his calves together with a contented hum, enjoying how smooth a fresh shave felt.  
  
And it wasn’t like he really should be tired after the day he’d had: there wasn’t much Lotor required of him. He didn’t get pampered, as the only ones around were Sentries, only fun if Pidge and Hunk’d modified them, and Lotor’s generals, who only had time to dote on him on rare occasion, but he did get the opportunity to pamper himself—waking up whenever he wanted, following through with a strict, daily self-care regiment, an occasional workout (if he felt like it; most days he did not), and the rest of his day, he got to do whatever he pleased.  
  
With this spare time he focused on hobbies he’d enjoyed back on Earth, like knitting (each General had their own sweater, scarf, and pair of socks and currently, Lance was working on a second set for Ezor and a third for Lotor), or playing video games (they’d gone back to Terra and bought any and every game available for the Mercury Gameflux)…sometimes he’d just go around the ship singing songs he’d made up off the top of his head and it put everyone in a good mood—well, perhaps not everyone all the time. Zethrid could get annoyed with Lance’s loudness and on occasion, a very focused Acxa would snap at him to _‘please… **stop** ,’_ but it endeared especially Lotor, who’d catch Lance’s hands in his own and begin a waltz as he hummed along with whatever silly tune he’d come up with.  
  
_“This is a splendid song,” he’d purr between melodies._  
  
_“At least it doesn’t suck like yours,” he’d retort and Lotor would only roll his eyes, a smile still on his lips as he pulled Lance along to the beat of their hearts._  
  
It was times like those, rather than the excess of GAC and lack of physical labor and mental strain, that Lance was reminded of why he’d married Lotor and agreed to take his side at the throne—which they barely got to sit at, if ever…once, perhaps twice in the past decaphoeb.  
  
He loved him, no matter how complicated the situation had become. After Zarkon and Haggar’s defeat, the empire accepted Lotor back as Emperor. They’d formed the New Unified Universe (NUU for short), a budding alliance of solar systems that worked together to provide aid for planets suffering from the Empire’s previous rule. There was still some questionable behavior behind closed doors that both Lance and Voltron turned a blind eye to, but perhaps it was necessary evil: after all, not all were on their side. Zarkon had been defeated, but the ideals he’d set in stone over the past 10,000 years were still ever-present in some stubborn tyrants.  
  
Lance yawned, eyes fluttering shut as he sank into the multitudes of plush pillows behind him stuffed with who-knows-what kind of feathers. He reached over to the bedside, grabbing his sleeping mask and fastening it around his head before sighing and really getting comfy, fingers intertwined as his hands rested on his softening belly, slowly raising up…and down…up…and down as his breath fell into a comfortable and steady pace.  
  
It wasn’t like he didn’t have regrets, though. There was a lot he regret, a lot he felt guilty for—not knowing how long he’d been away from Earth was one of them. It was times like these, at the end of a long day where he lay in bed void of any company, any sort of sound, any sights or particular smell that he began to ponder how his family was doing.  
  
How old were his nephews now…were they in middle school yet? Was his mom still healthy? How was Luis doing? Did they celebrate his birthday each year? How many birthdays had there been, anyway?  
  
If he had to guess, he’d put himself around twenty-one, but that guess was as good as eighteen, or thirty. He didn’t think he looked old and he didn’t feel old most of the time, but it was a very real possibility: the whole concept of Earth time had completely escaped him, now rendered irrelevant to his lifestyle.  
  
And he wanted to go back—he really did; they all did. It was one of the first things Lotor’d offered him even before they got engaged…but Lance had turned it down, just as the other Paladins did. They knew they were a part of something greater than themselves—the NUU needed them as an icon just as the Universe had needed Voltron when Zarkon had been its ruler.  
  
But there was a lot to it. He couldn’t just pop back in to his house and introduce his alien husband and explain that while he couldn’t wait to give each and every family member twenty hugs each and catch up, he was sort of an Emperor of the Universe now and there were royal duties to attend to like lounging around and playing video games all day while floating around space.  
  
It sounded terrible, but it’d become his reality; complacent in how things were, he didn’t ever question Lotor’s encouragement to relax and take it easy, justifying it with how hard he’d worked as the Blue Paladin. The stress he’d been under was like a lifetime’s worth, and now it was his turn to enjoy a relatively peaceful retirement.  
  
And then there was the guilt, bubbling up from the corners of his mind at times like this, and he rolled on his side, hugging the pillow closest to him. It smelled like Lotor’s hair and he inhaled deeply, taking it in and letting it out slowly, trying to push out the anxiety along with the oxygen.    
  
This feeling was why he couldn’t bring himself to go back: he liked it out here, he liked living like this, and there was just so much that he didn’t even know how he’d even begin to explain to his family.  
  
What if they wouldn’t approve of his marriage? What if they wanted him to stay at home, now that they’d had to go on for so long thinking he was forever lost—dead? They’d always known he wanted to go off into space but a big draw of being an astro-explorer was the long vacation times in between missions. Now his visits would be generally short-lived, probably only a quintant or two. Would they even accept that kind of life? Lance couldn’t help but worry.  
  
_“Of course they want to see you, my Love,” Lotor had whispered a bit exasperatedly, tucking some of Lance’s lengthening hair behind his ear once he’d expressed these concerns. The idea that his own family, whom he was so close to and always talked about, would reject him was absolutely ridiculous to Lotor—he was sure the ex-Paladin’s family would appreciate seeing him again after so long and of course, there was a part of him that really, really wanted to meet them, not just to better picture the stories he always listened to but perhaps even be accepted into the family as well. He’d never really had a family before._  
  
_“But what if they hate me…or…or, what if it’s been so long, they don’t even **remember** me?” _  
  
_“I do not know how anyone could forget a smile as bright as yours...nor a heart so pure.”_  
  
His grasp on the pillow subsequently tightened at the memory. Even when he said things like that, Lance couldn’t help but feel a spark of uncertainty take hold.


	2. II.

Lance and the other former Paladins talked almost every day through a group video chat, but it never really felt too satisfactory. While Pidge was off making huge scientific leaps at Matt’s side, Keith and Shiro were working in the Blade of Marmora, infiltrating rogue rebel groups and dismantling them from the inside-out like it was nothing. Hunk was traveling to the NUU’s several Balmera with Shay, overseeing all the crystals and maintaining the planets’ health, and Allura and Coran were making their way, belt by belt, bringing cheer, hope and pride to all the newly liberated planets between trips to other dimensions to harvest the pure quintessence that supported the entire NUU.  
  
Meanwhile, Lance was lying in bed with a facial and on a good day, attended a publicity event where he’d sit up in a balcony and wave to all the excited little Galra running around with dull blades and being scolded by their parents.   
  
He’d sometimes get the opportunity to attend galas as a representative, and there he’d at least learn all the latest Galra gossip, but the others weren’t a part of the royal social circle and even when he tried to explain some crazy story he’d heard through the grapevine, they didn’t seem to ever really understand why exactly it was so juicy that whats-his-name was caught with so-and-so draped over his arm at the latest high society party.   
  
Lotor knew there was some sort of rift forming in Lance’s heart—he could see it in his pretty blue eyes whenever the video call ended and his forced smile faded, and even more so when they had dinner with the Paladins, Lance retreating in to himself and listening to what everyone else had to say, only chiming in occasionally, and usually just to Lotor, or on his other side, Hunk.   
  
“The Palmagoren meat is cooked just _perfect,_ isn’t it?” He leaned over to his best friend’s ear. Lotor’s twitched in response, fighting to hear his whispered words with a frown on his face.  
  
It was worrisome: that wasn’t who Lance was, that wasn’t the man Lotor’d fallen in love with and while of course he’d continue to stand at his side no matter who he evolved into, he felt a burning urge to figure out what exactly was upsetting him so, especially as of late. Even a decaphoeb ago, he hadn’t been this _different._   
  
When Lotor had tried to bring it up to Allura quietly after dinner, the two of them gazing over at Lance who was calmly discussing the preparation of the food they’d just consumed with Hunk while sipping a glass of Nunvill, she seemed to have a completely different outlook on the matter and replied without much concern.  
  
“He’s really grown up,” she said with a smile, “He’s finally learned what it means to be royalty. He’s even drinking the Nunvill!”

Lotor chuckled with a little shrug and Allura went on: “Truthfully, I hadn’t expected him to mature so fast…but I suppose that’s something to do with your influence.”   
  
“Perhaps,” Lotor’d mused, but he couldn’t help but feel there was something a bit darker at work in Lance’s mind and he was determined to find out what that may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. Next one should be up soon!


	3. III.

The door whirred open late that night and Lance tugged off his sleeping mask, glancing over his shoulder with a squint, bright purple light flooding the bedroom until Lotor’d stepped in and it shut behind him.   
  
Lance stared through the darkness at his pillow, not putting his mask on but rather, waited. He listened to the sounds of Lotor’s armor shed and the tug of soft Altean fabric as he pulled on his pajamas and joined Lance in bed with a small sigh, getting comfortable on his side, spooning Lance from behind, settling his head on the same pillow as his hair pooled beneath him.  
  
“What’s the matter, Love?” He asked after a stretch of silence, and instead of answering right away, Lance wriggled his body around, turning to face him and wrapping an arm around his body in return.   
  
“I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”  
  
“Earth?”  
  
It was usually Earth—if not, it was the Paladins. Perhaps tonight in particular it was both, given the day’s events.   
  
“Yeah, I guess. Iunno, really.”   
  
Lotor’s grip on his back tightened and he shimmied a bit lower on the bed so their foreheads could press against one another, their breath intermingling tastefully.   
  
“We’ll go, should you desire it.”  
  
“Nah…”  
  
Typically, he’d allow this sort of dismissive attitude, but tonight, he was going to challenge it: “Why not? A short stop could lead to useful intelligence for the NUU…and I’ve been meaning to decipher the Blue Lion’s runes for some time now.”   
  
For a moment, Lance’s heart stopped, then picked up to a frightening pace. Anxiety swelled in his gut as he was confronted with the possibility of returning. It wasn’t just hypothetical this time, it made sense to go back to Earth—in fact, it might even be necessary at some point soon.   
  
It was becoming too real a little too fast and Lance closed his eyes with his teeth grit. Lotor soothed him by kissing all over his face to his round ear that he loved so much before whispering in its canal, “It’s all right, my Love. Tell me your fears.”   
  
No matter how many times he’d already heard, he would always listen again. Whatever brought Lance comfort, he would do without complaint: that’s what it meant to love someone, Lotor thought.   
  
“Do you think I’m…old?” It wasn’t the question that held the most weight, but it was tugging at his ever-beating heart for more reasons than one...and one Lotor had never actually heard before.   
  
“Certainly not.”  
  
“I feel old.”   
  
Before questioning it further, Lotor paused, giving his response some thought before furrowing his brow, asking, “Because you are no longer in the heat of battle?”

That was the only logical explanation, was it not? Keith and Shiro particularly came to mind: Lance was always retelling their stories to Lotor so enthusiastically and he wasn’t blind to the way he seemed to get so excited over the idea of someday joining them somehow in an undercover Marmora mission despite the impossibility of it all, considering Lance was very human and not at all Galra, unless association counted.   
  
“I guess…”   
  
“Royal life has never quite suited me, either. However, it's our duty to be in this position.”   
  
“I know.” Lance rolled his eyes—he was very well aware of all this, he didn’t need to hear it repeated. It just irritated him.  
  
“Perhaps we could use a little vacation.” His tone shifted, turning much more playful, grin on his face.  
  
That suggestion had certainly planted a little seed of hope: “By vacation, do you mean kicking some rebel butt?” He asked, slinging a leg around Lotor’s waist, drawing their bodies closer yet.   
  
“Precisely.”  
  
The rebel movement had been strong—much stronger than Voltron’s initial coalition. Many did not want to succumb to Lotor or the NUU’s policies: they’d held rank and power before, and now they were on an equal playing field…it’d stirred up a lot of defiance. Of course, peaceful settlements had been the first option but some were so stubborn it’d taken a bit more…force, to convince them.   
  
As wrong as it sounded, Lance loved getting his bayard out again. Even if he’d only be sniping locks for a covert mission, being on the battlefield gave him a rush of excitement that nothing else ever could…like playing a video game, but with somehow crazily increased intensity. Life or death, to be precise, and there was no restart or save points to rely on.

 _Perfect._   
  
“Finally!” Noisily pecking Lotor’s face all over was the only way Lance could truly show his gratefulness. “A mission the Paladins are gonna be excited to hear about…Keith’s gonna be so jealous!”   
  
The Emperor hummed as he ran his fingers up and down the smooth, brown skin of his leg. He rather liked Lance’s beauty rituals and while he certainly wouldn’t mind if the human was cover in hair like most seemed to be, he’d grown fond of the silky touch all over. “We’ll be passing a planet still dominated by Zarkon’s influence the day after tomorrow. It could be an opportunity.”   
  
“Tell me more tomorrow, Babe.” Lance sighed happily, snatching his sleeping mask and snapping it over his head before snuggling into the makeshift pillow Lotor's chest provided as he shifted to lie on his back. “We need our beauty sleep!”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
As they settled against one another, a soft purr came from deep in Lotor’s chest, reverberating across Lance’s cheek. He hummed back, nuzzling into the soft lilac skin, rather liking the comforting vibrations and the room fell otherwise silent...but it wasn't long before it was filled with Lance's noisy snores. 


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is better if you've already seen season 6, as I'll be tying in those spoilers later in the fic, but it's still spoiler-free up to this point.

Lance woke up to the sound of a plate being set next to the bed. He hummed, starting off as a quiet little sound that soon grew into a noisy rumble as he stretched his arms and legs and tugged off his mask.  
  
He peeked over at the table, being greeted with the sight of a big bowl of fresh space fruits and a smile on Lotor’s face as he watched him gather himself up and sit cross-legged, tugging the bowl into his lap.   
  
He took a seat on the bed’s edge, watching Lance pluck the fruit out one by one and enjoy himself thoroughly.   
  
“You’ll need the energy today. I thought we could do a little sparring, should you feel up to it.”  
  
“Do I ever!” Lance hopped up, having to swallow down a particularly large chunk of fruit before continuing, “I haven’t gotten to do anything in _ages!”_   
  
“Precisely. We must ensure you are ready for battle.”  
  
Lance was naturally skinny and if he didn’t eat as much as he did, he’d probably wither to ashes, but a lot of the muscle he’d built up over his time as a Paladin was softening up. He didn’t mind and neither did Lotor, who’d often squeeze or pinch at the flesh, intrigued. It only made cuddling more comfortable and he found himself pressing against Lance’s body in new ways just to experience the thin layer of plush that was especially finding its way to his midsection, and the insides of Lance’s thighs. It was a sign that his husband was well taken care of and that was something Lotor was rather proud of being able to provide.  
  
Still, Lance would need some toning up in preparation for battle, no matter how simple the mission seemed at a glance. He knew Lotor would protect him no matter what—there wasn’t a foe he couldn’t beat, Lance was sure of it (and he took great pride in knowing that such a strong man, who could have anyone in the Universe but chose him, specifically, was indeed his husband), but it still felt good to be valued as a comrade—someone very capable of fighting at the Emperor’s side, and that was exactly what he strove to be.   
  
He was debriefed through the speakers in his helmet while he shot at practice targets, still skillful as ever: they’d make their way through the capital and overtake their King’s castle. Negotiations would be offered at gunpoint, but of course, they were ready to use necessary force to get the rebels to agree to their terms. Lance’d learned, over the decaphoebs, that a certain level of violence was essential to getting stubborn Zarkon followers to agree. He justified this by reminding himself that the Blades killed Galra rebels all the time, and besides, Lotor always promised that it was a small sacrifice that must be made for the greater good of the NUU.   
  
Most of the time, they were just blowing up robots or druids, anyway, but it’d be a lie to say Lance hadn’t grown at least a little bit morally immune to some select ways of the NUU’s darker operations.


	5. V.

Sentries polluted the rural streets of Rigal. It was a sandy planet, not too densely populated by living, breathing beings, but there were certainly some here and there, especially here at the world’s supposed capital's marketplace leading up to the castle. As much as it pained Lance to shoot down the robot defenders right in front of a family walking hand-in-hand down the market, he had no choice: they must make their way through the city as swiftly as possible, and that meant getting rid of the scouting sentries.   
  
He took a deep, shaky breath, looking through his familiar scope with an eye squeezed shut. His finger hovered over the trigger and in the moment that the muscle twitched to press it in towards himself, he’d never felt more alive.   
  
The shot rang through the air and by the time it’d hit the ears of the residences, Lance was gone, hidden behind an empty crate decorating the rooftop. He counted the ticks under his breath before he moved on to the next rooftop, glancing down between the houses where Lotor was silently taking out sentries with fluid stabs of his sword, so fast they surely were painless for the robots.  
  
If they even felt pain at all.  
  
Clearing the path to the governmental building wasn’t too hard and before Lance knew it, he was hiding up in the castle’s wooden beams, the King in his cross hairs.   
  
His heart was beating fast in his chest—really, after so long, he should be used to this by now, but it always seemed to awaken some sort of excitement in him, achievable by no other means.   
  
It felt good. He was useful, for once—even if his shot was not necessary today. The pathetic King had seemingly given in only ticks after Lotor’s proposal, dropping to his knees and begging for help: he’d been being held hostage by the rebels for a considerable amount of time, forced to hand over control to them and the self-sustaining sentries and dark-magic infused druids.   
  
If Lotor was on his side, and ensure his safety, he’d pass control over to him. Reassuring him he could still rule his planet, the Emperor promised him security and a new, brighter future for his enslaved people; the rebels and their magic puppets were no longer to be feared, and would soon be taken care of.  
  
Dropping down from the beams with a loud thud, sand puffing up beneath his feet, disintegrating into the air, Lance holstered his gun and gave a friendly wave to the groveling King, who seemed rather shocked he’d been up there the entire time. Even as his guards turned their blades to Lance, Lotor calmly re-directed their attention to the symbol on the breastplate of Lance’s armor—that of the New Unified Universe.   
  
They were allies now.  
  
With one more promise of further plans and negotiations to be made, Lotor left the King with a communicator and made his way back to their ship. This time, they could walk through the streets and actually appreciate the capital’s marketplace without having to worry too much, having previously ensured they’d be clear of any sort of trouble.   
  
Lotor lifted off his helmet and Lance gazed over affectionately as the silver hair poured across his back, fluffing out as it fell into its usual place. They were walking slowly, taking in all the sights to be seen, but Lotor’s hair was surely the most beautiful one out of them all.  
  
“That felt good!”    
  
“Indeed.”   
  
Taking the opportunity of the Emperor’s back being turned towards him, Lance leapt on to it, arms flinging over his shoulders and legs finding purchased wrapped tight around his waist.   
  
“Oof—” Not at all surprised by the sudden action, Lotor single-handedly helped Lance crawl up on to his shoulders, and reached down to hold a calf steady with one hand, helmet in the other, as they continued their walk. He could care less about onlookers’ gazes, instead rather enjoying the attention his very extra husband brought to the two of them.  
  
“How many do you think there are, anyway? Haggar’s robot things…surely we didn’t kill ‘em all.” Now up on Lotor’s shoulders, Lance really could see everything. While rather desolate and sort of sad, the colorful foods and hand-made goods on display in the kiosks evened out the mood.   
  
“They know how to construct their own kind, so the answer could be infinite.”   
  
“That’s sorta scary.”  
  
“There’s nothing to fear anymore. It is only a matter of time—soon, the witch will be overpowered. We will finally lead a peaceful reign.”   
  
Lance beamed at the idea.


	6. VI.

The two boarded back on to Lotor’s ship, moving quickly to the quarantine facility. After each mission, they had to strip down, get in a pod (some kind of Altean technology—Lance had long since ceased trying to figure out exactly what it was), and get scanned.   
  
It was routine, and Lance was quite used to it by now, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t worry that each time he exited and had to look at the scan’s results; one could never know when the slightest thing was wrong, and it’d been a particularly long time since Lance had gone on any sort of mission to a rebel-run planet.   
  
He stood at Lotor’s side, changing out of the weird suit and into a rather comfortable tunic of his, gazing over at the results with rather hazed-over eyes.   
  
“Nothing seems to be of concern…,” Lotor muttered, scrolling through the standard data presented, looking for abnormalities. He then paused, eyes widening slightly, but Lance couldn’t notice the little pause—there was something else now on his mind.   
  
“Could you, uhm…tell me how old I am? In Earth years…”   
  
Silver brow furrowed and Lance could tell he was reluctant. Even so, there was no reason to deny him of such a simple request, was there? “Certainly,” he replied after a pause, scrolling back up and going through the information more slowly, combing it for that specific fact.    
  
Even when the number was found, he had to mentally convert it to Lance’s Earth time, muttering the calculations under his breath until he’d reached a formal conclusion.   
  
“Your body is that of a twenty-four-year-old human,” Lotor turned to him, his face not particularly happy, nor bothered by the number. Lance, on the other hand, did not really know how to feel.   
  
Seven years, he thought…the amount of time it took for someone to be officially declared dead on Earth.   
  
This number in particular hit him hard and Lance found himself visibly sinking into himself, crossing his arms and staring at the floor beneath his feet.   
  
“Twenty four,” he repeated, for clarification. Lotor nodded, but couldn’t possibly understand why Lance was so upset.  
  
He took his rightful place at Lance’s side, wrapping an arm around his back. He wasn’t a touchy person—in fact, when he’d first met Lance, he’d been very confused and almost scared of all the physical attention the other was always giving him, but over the decaphoebs they’d spent together, he’d learned that is what comforted Lance most.   
  
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”  
  
“I was 17 when I left Earth. 18 when I met you. Then I just lost track of time…it’s been seven years, Lotor. Even if I went back to Earth, I’m…officially dead, there. Like, the government has legally declared me dead.”   
  
“But you’re alive,” Lotor refuted, confused by Lance’s upset over such a contradictory thought.   
  
“Not to Earth. Not to my family. They’ve probably all moved on, they probably don’t even miss me anymore.”  
  
Lotor shook his head, cowlick flinging from one side to the other. “How can you say such things, Lance? You know better than anyone your family loves you.” He didn’t pretend to understand what Lance was going through: all he could do was comfort him, and encourage him of what he was certain to be the truth.   
  
Lance said nothing, standing still, breathing slowly, and heavily, trying to keep himself calm despite his rapidly increasing heart rate: his anxiety was beginning to eat him up from the inside out.  
  
“Lance…there’s something else the scan has shown…”  
  
He turned, looking up at his love with wide eyes.   
  
“You’re pregnant.” 


End file.
